"It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. She traced him by his scent. ” She looked away from him. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. Now, Sir. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady.
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